In the Abyss
by WriteFF13
Summary: Crona's world is a dark abyss void of light. Living in the shadows of Milites, she one day wishes to sever the ties that hold her there and travel abroad to hone her unique skills. The last time she was outside the Milites border ended with the murder of a beloved friend...this time, she's vowed to take down the power that killed him. Contains OCs, T for mild blood and violence.
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_In the Abyss: Chapter 1-Prologue_, in which we meet our final character. No, this isn't Lightning Farron anymore. This is an entirely new character. And so it begins. Do review, subscribe, favorite I or the story, or PM me with questions! Title is still subject to change, suggestions are welcome!

Update 6/1/2012: Thank you, **Iseria Dweller **for the review! Glad you're interested in Crona!-the title is officially "Flower On the Precipice". There's a deeper meaning to the title, which can't really be revealed until later in the story. Thanks!

Cover was made by ScarletDusk on DeviantART: ?qh=§ion=&global=1&q=hooded+girl#/d1opcvk . Awesome pic, and thanks for letting me use it!

Write on,

**WriteFF13 **

* * *

**.:IN THE ABYSS:. **

_Chapter 1-Prologue _

_"How dare you speak to this man! Do you have any idea how important he is, compared to the scum you are? You belong in the streets, kid. Now beat it, Crona!" _

_A harsh kick sent the small pink-haired girl flying back down the stairs and landing in a disgusting puddle of gutter water. The store owner turned away from the crying toddler and hustled a cloaked man in white and red inside. She slammed the door shut. _

_Amidst her own crying she could hear the fading voice of the strict weaponry store owner: _

_"So sorry about that! The children around here, I swear. It makes you wonder what their parents are like…take a seat, General…"_

_The little girl sat up, wiping her tears away. Her brown cloak that fell to her knees was soaked and now smelled like dead fish. She wanted to let the tears flood down her cheeks, but knew she had to be strong. Her feet were cold and dirty; after all, she wore no shoes. _

_Not that her family could afford them._

_Tears welled in her eyes again when she dwelled on her family's economic position. Before the big push for military weaponry and soldiers, there was enough gil to be spent on improving the welfare of the people of Milites. Milites' people were angry and untrusting of the new politicians, politicians who did nothing unless there was money to be rewarded. _

_"Get out of the way, kid!" shouted a merchant. _

_The girl darted out of the way, only to find herself in front of a guardsman. He eyed her and was about to approach her when a firm hand grabbed the hood of her cloak and hauled her to her feet. _

_"Come on, Crona. What are you doing wandering around these parts of town?" _

_Crona, the girl, smiled happily after hearing his voice. She stepped closer to him and sighed in relief. The dark thoughts of her present situation always caused Crona to become depressed. When the darkness closed in around her, wrapped her in a thick blanket and threatened to suffocate her, he came to her side. Her only light in the world. _

I remember those days, as clear as day, as dark as night. A paradoxical phrase. When my life was ruled by menacing clutches, the clutches of those who only served to strip power from anything and everything. Such sickening people.

It is through those very same young eyes that I look at this town. Filthy and desolate. I wait for the day with eagerness when I abandon it and sever the ties that hold me here. I'll escape, and strike back on the empire that dared to extinguish that light of my world.

But for now, I linger in the shadows, flitting from gray to black, my blue eyes every watchful, piercing through this haze of lies and treachery. My time will come when I leave this place. I won't let that chance escape.

Yes.

_Is that not what you once wanted for us both…Rokuro?_

* * *

**2****nd**** AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Now I know this prologue might have been a bit confusing, but things will be cleared up as chapters fly by. And yes, I deleted the previous "Impure Eyes" story to replace with this one, because, well…I like it better! More to come on "Crona", our mysterious, bright-eyed girl. You'll see how I describe her form…she's actually closer to Sice and Seven in terms of physical form. Tell me what you thought of Crona and her mysterious "Rokuro".

-**WriteFF13**


	2. In the Shadows

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Chapter 2 of _In the Abyss_…now I'm not so sure about the title of this story. Although you don't know too much about the story…any suggestions would be helpful! Thanks for reading, and I hope you drop a review!

Listen to "Fear of the Abyss" from the FFType-0 OST, will ya? Makes the chapter so much better. Or "Ezio's Family" from the Asassin's Creed II OST.

Write on,

**WriteFF13**

* * *

**.:IN THE ABYSS:. **

_Chapter 2 – In the Shadows_

I hear them before they even come into my sight. Their obnoxious laughter rings throughout the abandoned alleyways and cracked streets; the distinct sound of a blade being scraped on the ground pierces the relative silence of the area I traverse.

The fools.

I pull my black hood down to my eyes and proceed to climb to the top of a building, scurrying up a pipe; I use my legs to hug the pipe, then use my hands to pull upwards and my feet to push up. My long cloak – which is faintly splattered with blood – causes me little trouble, and I ascend onto the roof with ease, but I do not stand immediately.

Instead, I crawl to the edge of the shingled roof…or, as "shingled" as you can call it. The shingles are falling off, leaving patches of wood underneath, vulnerable to the weather. Yet I know whoever owns the building cannot afford to fix it; none of us can.

I perch at the very top of the roof, balancing on my toes to avoid falling off. From my vantage point I can survey everything in the street below without being noticed. An event unfolds before me, one I have seen occur many times before; I wonder how many more times I will witness it before the day of my death.

The street is empty except for a ring of teenage boys surrounding a younger boy of about eight years old. He is clutching a tattered burlap sack to his chest and watching the boys around him. I notice a sack has already been torn and on the ground; food has spilled everywhere – no doubt the boy's family's food for the time being, now destroyed. I suspect there will be more than food spilled tonight.

One of the older boys reaches for the bag, but even when the child cries and begs him to leave him be, he continues to take it. He tosses the bag around to his friends, and they all make a show of eating the food or destroying it under their feet. The boy shakes with anger and fear.

I have already notched an arrow onto my bow and am waiting. They do not notice.

It is only when the leader of the boys reaches forward to snatch a small satchel of gil that I loose the arrow, watching it as it flies towards the older boy and impales him through the back of the head. Indeed, it has killed him almost instantly.

It was the least I could do for a thief.

The other boys are in shock as their leader crumples to the ground, blood seeping out of the wound. They look around in fear and look down at the food in their hands. They cry out in fright and toss them back at the little boy, who looks sick as the leader's blood stains his shoes. I don't think he even notices that the older have fled.

Shakily he steps back and begins to collect his food.

I decide to approach him.

After slinging my bow across my head and onto my back, I jump down from the roof and land safely and silently on the street. Drawing my black hood and cloak around me, I make enough noise for the boy to jump and find me in the darkness of the building, my eyes shining brightly.

He is frightened again, I know, yet I do not let him scream before I raise a hand and step out of the shadows, holding up my hands to show I will not harm him. He noticeably relaxes as I stoop down to pick up fruit and walk towards him .

He notices my bow and the sword I have sheathed at my side.

"Were you the one that killed that man?" he asks, thankful.

"Yes."

"Why?"

I smile as I deposit fruits and vegetables into his hands; children ask so many questions. "Why not?"

"He wasn't bothering you," the boy says.

"He would have killed you before the night was over," I answer, not hesitant to tell him the truth. After all, he _lives _in it.

"How do you know?" he questions me.

"I've faced many people who wanted me dead; I know what it looks like." I change the subject and ask, "Do you have another sack to put these in?"

The boy fiddles around in his pockets, but he has nothing. "It's alright; my house is just down the street. I can carry these!"

"Good."

I straighten and stack the last fruit – an apple – on top of the pile of groceries, now balanced in a haphazardly way underneath his chin. His eyes peek out over them, watching me. I didn't notice until now that they are stormy grey.

"What about him?" he nods towards the body.

"I will leave it."

_It will serve as sign…and warning._

"Are you leaving now?" he asks me, as if disappointed.

I laugh quietly, but inside, I only feel sadness. "Yes. What is your name?"

"Kouta," he replies. "What 'bout yours?"

"My name?" I say.

_I have many names. Some that I cannot repeat, or they would give you nightmares, child. Just remember… _

"My name is Crona," I finally say.

"That's a strange name, Crona," he says as he adjusts his hold on his family's groceries.

"I know."

I begin to back away and sink into the shadows once more, watching the boy with careful eyes. He is sad to see me go so soon, I know, but I am glad that it was I that found him.

"Will I see you again, Crona?" he asks, straining to see me over his food.

"No."

I don't give him a chance to reply before I am already on the roof and flying towards my next destination. He will arrive home safely, I know.

The moon is out now, shooting my hair through with its bands of light.

I think back and know that I was correct:

Blood was spilled tonight.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I know this story was kind of dark, but it is introducing you to Crona's world, which in itself is a dark and dangerous world of lies, betrayal, death, and destruction. I may bump the K+ to a T, because some of the deaths in this story will be a little graphic, nothing too serious. We're not talking _Call of Duty _or _Dead Space _here, don't worry.

The title is still subject to change…if anyone has any suggestions, do share, because I know now that the title is way too light for the type of story this will be.

-**WriteFF13**


	3. Crossroads

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **It's been awhile since we picked up from Crona's lone adventures in Milites, and since it has, I'll give a quick recap as to what's happened so far. This chapter features the backstory to Crona and it needs to be told, so bear with me! Hopefully it's enjoyable enough.

**Summary: **Crona has been living in the darkness of the Milites Empire for as long as she can remember, guarding the last pride of Milites as she lives her life on the edge. A master of weaponry and the kill, Crona won't stop at nothing until she learns the truth behind her entire life.

BGMs (background music) are just recommendations for you to listen to throughout the story that I myself listened to when writing. Hope you like the choices!

Rating might jump up to T, don't know yet…some things are going to be a little graphic, but nothing crazy I assure you.

Write on,

**WriteFF13**

* * *

**.:IN THE ABYSS:. **

_Chapter 3 – Crossroads _

**["Woodkid" by Iron] **

The peace and silence of the night was short-lived.

The distraction of Kouta and the gang from earlier had lessened my caution as I leap from rooftop to rooftop swiftly. Had I seen an elite soldier stationed at the top of a three-story bell tower just to the right of me, I would have taken to the streets. Instead I was careless and wrapped up in my own thoughts, forgetting the dangers of the night. Had Rokuro been here he would have scolded me. Yet Rokuro can't stop the sharp eyes of a sniper that spot me, immediately recognizing my dark hood and leather chest plate. I think perhaps I could outrun him and make the last go for the edge of roof and slide off from a lamp, but he has other ideas.

They know who I am, and Aulstyne had promised a pretty penny for my head.

A beam of red suddenly bars my way just two feet in front of me, but instincts kick in and I slide under it, kicking a few roof shingles out from under me as bullet slices past me, so close I can feel it rustle my hair. I leap to my feet and continue to run. My legs or my lungs don't hurt yet, but one bullet through a muscle and I'd be in bad shape; I can't outrun them forever. That revelation fuels my energy as I vault over a chimney, nearly considering plummeting into it to avoid the sniper's red beam that could incinerate my heart at any moment. A shingle right beneath my moving foot bursts into chunks of brown. The bullet ricochets off the roof and snips the side of my face, tracing a red line on my left cheek. It doesn't matter.

The second the resounding bong of the bell reached my ears, I realize I've been ambushed. Has meeting one innocent child softened my senses? I'm a fool, I think.

Immediately, ten more beams came to life, creating a sort of demonic piece of art, symmetrical and deadlier than any blade. I leap through it anyways, distorting that image as it trails me anyways; we play tag, the snipers and I. The sound of a horde of soldiers thundering beneath me in the dark alleyways does little to comfort me, their shouts ring through the night and bounce off the walls of the alleys under my feet when I jump over them. An uncomfortable clench in my heart becomes apparent as another bullet nicks my hand. That one stings; it's opened a gash on the back of my hand.

I'm relieved to see the edge of a roof coming closer, a clothing line hanging between them and weighed down my towels and shirts. It would have to work. I race for it, feeling the thump of my heart as time seems to slow down around me, the world blurred into gray. Only that one clothing line stood out to me, bright red as if beckoning me to safety.

I could miss and break every bone in my body.

My brains could be shot out of my head and become a smear on the roof.

With that in mind I leap and feel the rush of gravity take hold of my body, bringing me closer to death or safety. It's as if I'm frozen and the lasers simply slash through the darkness around me as I slip in between them. For a moment my hood is pushed back to reveal my dark black hair and bright, crimson eyes set and determined; my cloak inflates behind me. As I fall I flick out my left wrist, feeling the resounding click as a 1-inch wide blade protrudes from underneath my sleeve and extends past my middle finger. I angle my wrist away from the blade so as not to cut myself and fall headfirst, gripping the thick leather cord in my hand as the world speeds up. A quick slash at one end and I'm sliding down, feeling a painful burn underneath my archery gloves, yet not caring; even when the cord burns through my skin and rubs it raw I still glide down, pushing ragged clothes out of my face. Silenced gunshots ring above me as I slide down the clothing line, slightly hindered by clothes pins. Yet I make it to the ground, and I am alive.

_"Nothing else matters. If you're alive, you're not dead." _

Orders are shouted from all directions above me and I can hear different groups of soldiers begin to converge on my current location. I flick the blade back into its hidden position and push my hood down to my eyes, resuming a jog and entering an alley I know they will not check. It carries me away from the commotion of the chase I can claim victory over. Yet the danger is not gone and they will have soldiers scouring the entire district by dawn. Homes will be ransacked, stores overturned. I pity the people who will have to push their way past patrolling Milites soldiers to simply commute to work in the coming days.

As I near my own home, I begin to wonder if perhaps it is time…

I'm not altogether surprised to find my question answered when I return to the abandoned store I called home for six months, its shattered windows reflecting the blaze that roars inside the entrance. They have burned me out, hoping to draw me out in hopes of surrender. A shake of my head accompanies my bemused thoughts – did they really think I would give in so easily?

Aulstyne's soldiers have scoped me out and they stand waiting outside my door for when I return, their backs facing the crackling fire as the building begins to crumble to the ground, wood, cement, and brick scatter everywhere; the soldiers move out, never blinking an eye.

I watch them from the darkness of an alleyway, analyzing the situation. But I know there is no other conclusion to be had. I have everything I need on my back and plenty of rations in the bag strapped around my waist and shoulder. No goodbyes are given as I turn away from the shelter that protected me from the weather and dangers of the slums for half a year.

Let them wait, I think.

They'll never find me.

* * *

**["Fear of the Abyss" – **_**Final Fantasy Type-0 **_**OST]**

My thoughts inhabit my mind, and I can't stop them.

I am once again the wandering traveler, Crona. I belong to no one. Perhaps, I think, I was never meant to belong in the first place. Milites was once a beautiful land populated by the strongest, fiercest warriors in Orience; masters of war and the fight, the kill. I was born here seventeen years ago when life was simpler and Aulstyne had not yet ruled all. I lived in poverty, but at least I had a roof over my head and food on a somewhat regular basis.

Walking aimlessly through the darkness, I wonder where I am heading. My eyes clear and I realize I'm heading for the southeast. I stop in my tracks, laughing quietly at myself. What lies beyond those borders is not a place where I want to be.

But do I _belong _there?

A foreign chill runs through my body, and I can feel it in my heart. It's the thrill…of what? And then I realize it – I don't belong here, in the crumbling Milites Empire. Not anymore. I can feel the thrill of a new world lying below me, spread out and teeming with possibilities. I'm not tied to Milites anymore…I feel no obligation to protect the people here; after all, what protection have they ever lent me? It is a cold thing to think, I know. Yet if Aulstyne reverts his attention back to the borders…

_To Rubrum, home of the Suzaku crystal where the firebird sleeps._

I stand at a crossroads of fate but I don't believe I'm ready to make the choice.

But I know someone who can.

Minutes later I am on the outskirts of my district and enter into a forest full of thick pine trees and dense brush where I blend in. The street lights fade to just a flicker in the distance, the road leading into the decrepit town ultimately leads to Rubrum and beyond if I head southeast. As I enter the forest and go deep into the thicket, I remember from memory that the distance between where I stand now and any sort of civilization in Rubrum is many, many miles, dotted by numerous mountain ranges, swamps, and of course, Suzaku's first line of defense, the guard towers stationed every two miles halfway to the Peristylium. The breaking of the Pax Codex warrants on-sight execution of anyone from Milites like myself.

When I arrive at a familiar set of boulders backed against a thick tree, I sit down and lean my back against them, closing my eyes. It is here where I feel his presence most strongly, where I feel his memory the strongest.

Rokuro, my brother.

* * *

**["Vigrid – Town Areas" – **_**BAYONETTA **_**OST] **

_In the normal sense, Rokuro was never my blood brother. Rather, we grew up in the same district together, both alone in the darkness of the decaying Empire. He was two years older than me at the time, around ten if I remember the date correctly. The boy was notorious for snatching food from the unwary merchant and pick-pocketing other poor vagrants among us. He later told me it was for survival. _

_ When he met me, I was still a child. My parents – if they can be called parents at all – refused to have anything to do with me. I was allowed to live under the same roof, but any food was not to be shared with me. We were poor, and they believed they needed the calories much more than I did. Perhaps it was true. _

_ Perhaps not. _

_ And so I, at age eight, wandered into the dark streets of the Milites Empire and began searching for somewhere else to live and something to eat. I picked up the habit of stealing food when I could and developed the skill to disappear when I wished. It was the beginning of my days as a survivor. Those days were hard. I was always weak, yet my eyes never lost their fiery glint. That still holds true today. _

_ I became known around the darker parts of the district as "Crona." She who is fire. Perhaps they got the name from the color of my irises, I do not know. With no name given to me from my parents, I accepted it and melded into exactly that. I grew older and when I became ten years old in the hot days of summer, I met Rokuro. He was a vagrant himself, and we eventually met when I had been attempting a large haul from a merchant selling a wide variety of fruits. Their colors were brighter than the clothes I wore and the smell was mouth watering. I couldn't resist. _

_ But my hunger drove me to carelessness, and the merchant spotted me as I attempted to creep behind, shouting and making a ruckus. I made to bolt but the crowds surrounding the cart blocked my way, their eyes filled with anger. I'm sure they recognized me. I thought I had been caught when a torch flew over our heads, landing on the patched-up tarp covering the cart. It immediately caught fire and began eating away at the stilts and the food was burned to a crisp. In the chaos of the moment I was able to grab a few apples, nothing more, screams erupting around me as if they'd never seen a fire before. _

_ When a hand closed around my wrist I truly thought I had been caught, but when I looked up, it was simply another boy in the same shape as me. I knew in an instant he was the one who had thrown the torch and I followed him as he led me down a side street. We brushed past other poor merchants and beggars, not stopping until we reached an abandoned store. _

_ I never knew we would inhabit that dilapidated dwelling for over five years. _

_ Without a word he brought me inside and told me I could leave my fruit in the kitchen; he wouldn't steal it from me. Somehow I believe him knowing he was older and could probably disarm me if need be. _

_ I was still cautious, yet seeing a familiar face in the same situation gave me comfort. If he had helped me back there, surely he was on the good side._

_ "Who are you?" I finally asked. _

_ The boy turned to face me and pushed his hood back, which was attached to a long sort of cloak that went down to his knees. It looked incredibly warm, yet wouldn't it be a nuisance with its long length? He had shaggy brown hair and bright, blue eyes that were startlingly intelligent. He looked more like an academy student than a vagrant, if a bit of a rough student._

_ "You're in my house," he spoke. His voice was low but held a strangely playful tone. "You should be telling me." _

_ I was surprised, but kept my cool anyways. But when I spoke I seemed to grow conscious of the patches covering the many holes surrounding the seams of my shirt. It was a few years old and severely in need of a replacement. I had a leather vest I had snatched from a clothing store a year ago, but it certainly wasn't much in terms of protection. My pants were spotted with mud and my boots were awful. Why hadn't I noticed until now? _

_ "Cr –"_

_ "I know who you are," he interrupted, suddenly smiling. _

_ "W-what?" I stammered. Why had he asked me then? _

_ As if reading my thoughts, he replied, "I wanted to confirm. But I've seen you running around here before. You're Crona the thief." _

_ I suddenly became defensive. "I do what I have to survive. What about you?"_

_ "Same here. Don't worry; I'm not accusing you of anything. But you're different from the others I've seen running around here. When was the last time you were caught in the act of stealing something?" he asked expectedly. We had sat down unconsciously on the floor as there was no furniture decorating the naked floors of this two-story store. _

_ I snorted. "Never." _

_ He nodded appreciatively. "That's what I thought." _

_ My turn for questions. _

_ "Why did you bring me here?" I asked, crossing m arms. _

_ He returned it with an inquiry of his own. "How old are you?" _

_ "Ten." _

_ "And you've been surviving how long by yourself?" _

_ "Nearly all my life. My parents abandoned me, so I did the same to them," I answered, my voice hard. He was smart enough to realize I was wise beyond my age, matured my hardships._

_ He clapped his hands and stood, offering me a hand. I took it, befuddled. _

_ "That's why."_

* * *

**["Peaceful Times" – **_**Final Fantasy Type-0 **_**OST]**

_And so I lived with Rokuro as we quickly became the most notorious thieves in our district, avoiding the guards and stockpiling our home with food. There were many civilians that gave up on hiding their clothes that used to hang on clothing lines, and simply left a new shirt out every once in awhile with a reluctant smile as they watched us dash past. We moved quietly and were never caught. _

_ We were brother and sister, Rokuro and I. I had learned that he had separated from his parents only a few years before we met. He'd been living in that place just as long as I had. I never asked about his parents, and he never inquired further about mine. We had similar fighting styles, though I knew Rokuro far surpassed my skills. When I asked how he developed his skill with his bow and dead eye, he simply waved me away. _

_ He traveled with a mahogany bow slung on his back. It was beautiful. The string was strong and never snapped; the arrows fit snugly into the notch when he loosed them. I always loved to watch him use it, how in one swift motion he could sling an arrow from his quiver and notch in a second, letting it fly in less time._

_ "This'll be yours one day, Crona," he told me as he slung it over his shoulder after target practice in the nearby woods. _

_ "Why do you say that?" _

_ "I won't be around forever," he replied, watching me. _

_ "Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed. "You're only two years older than me and you're the strongest person I know." _

_ He laughed and flicked a hair out of my eyes. "There's people more powerful than I, Crona." _

_ I never believed him, and we continued on with life. _

_ Old Man Yama, the owner of a small weapons and armor shop was the only person we could trust. Standing at nearly sixty years old, Yamamoto sold various rusted blades and antique guns, though he also crafted new ones. This was before Aulstyne came into power and ordered all shops selling weapons to close down. We visited often to restock and soon our bodies hid numerous daggers and throwing knives. We never killed anyone, but we were wary nonetheless. _

_ It was Old Man Yama that crafted our hidden blades two years later after I had met Rokuro. He was fourteen and I was twelve – by now we had mastered every weapon except for this foreign blade that was an inch wide. The blades had a spring mechanism that unlatched when he flicked our wrists outward, the Old Man explained. They were tucked into leather braces wrapped around each arm and looked nothing out of the ordinary from any other Madou armor. _

_ "Give it a try," Yamamoto encouraged, wringing his hands in anticipation. "Just remember to angle your hand away."_

_ Both Rokuro and I snapped our wrists and watched as a beautiful blade clicked and slid out in the blink of an eye, engraved with intricate designs. At the very base of the blade was a small white tiger, the symbol of our empire. Engraved in tiny cursive on the side was "Hand-crafted by Yamamoto, Weapons & Armor." _

_ Turned out the blade slid in just as easily and silently. My insides prickled in excitement at the prospect of this weapon's advantages. Rokuro approved and thanked Old Man Yama, insisting we pay him back. _

_ He chortled, his eyes sparkling. "You two hardly have a penny! Don't worry. You two give me enough excitement for a lifetime. Now go try those things out. Just remember who made them for you, your Old Man Yama!" _

_ We were already halfway out the door, adjusting the straps of the braces and racing into the street, pushing past other peasants and guards. Irritated grumbles followed in our wake, but we didn't care. _

_ The hidden blades were better than any weapon we'd used previously, as they could be used for literally anything. Rokuro once joked that he could use his as a butter knife or steak knife. We both laughed because we knew neither of us could ever afford steak unless we stole it._

_ Our skills improved immensely in the company of one another. My adept use of the hidden blades far surpassed Rokuro's, yet his skill with a bow was the best I had ever seen. The forest that was in the outskirts proved the perfect place for target practice – many trees were stuck with arrows like a porcupine and throwing knives that couldn't be retrieved were imbedded deep in the biggest tree trunks. We sparred occasionally. After all, the finest opponents we could fight were the ones standing beside us. If we were lucky we could find a katana to use, and we refused to hold back. The worst injuries we ever received were from sparring with each other. I once slit a four-inch gash on the inside of his elbow and he nearly skinned my shoulder off. The fight was what we thrived in, what we lived for. The Milites blood in us played a large role in our skills, but our independence and survival was what really fine-tuned the ability to kill. _

_ One particular afternoon as we stood in a small clearing in the forest with our cloaks tossed to the sides and weapons drawn, Rokuro said something I will never forget: _

_ "I've turned you into a monster," he said quietly as we circled each other. He had a black katana in his right hand. His skills as a swordmaster were exceptional. My weapon of choice was Yamamoto's hidden blades. _

_ I jabbed for his side, but he countered with the hilt, jarring my wrist. _

_ "If that's what it takes to survive these days, than that's fine by me," I replied, panting slightly. _

_ He stepped forward and made for an uppercut, but I crossed the blades together, forming an X that held fast. We were locked in weapons, neither giving in. I knew Rokuro's size and strength were much more than mine, but I held fast anyway, determined not to let him finish his strike. _

_ Sweat formed on my brow, but I couldn't wipe it away. He pushed the sword upwards, leaning into it. I happened to look up and caught his eyes staring into mine fixedly. It was the first time I noticed his blue eyes were dimmed by…sadness? _

_ My concentration lapsed and Rokuro suddenly dropped his sword and struck me in the shoulder with the hilt, knocking me to the ground in a crumpled heap. My ears rang and my shoulder ached, but neither hurt more than my pride. I hated losing to him, especially when it was my own fault. When I looked up his eyes had regained their playful look and he offered a hand, sheathing his newfound katana. The gesture was reminiscent of the first time we met. _

_ Flicking my blades away I took it, brushing the dirt off of my hands and standing straight, striding back to the district. The lights could be seen through the trees. _

_ Rokuro snickered and caught up to me, resting his elbow on my shoulder. He was already nearly half a foot taller than me. "What happened back there? Weak arm, huh?" _

_ I elbowed his side and scowled. "I got distracted." _

_ "Never – " _

_ " – let yourself falter in battle, no matter what," I finished for him, shoving his arm off. _

_ He raised his eyebrows. "So you actually _do _listen to me!" he exclaimed, feigning mock surprise._

_ "Don't be stupid. Of course I do," I snapped. My shoulder still hurt like hell, and I was going to have a nasty bruise in the days to come. _

_ We walked on in silence until we reached the outskirts, scaling a brick wall to reach the roofs and travel the rest of the way in safety. That is, until we reached the last street. When we reached the roof of our house and crawled through the shattered window, Rokuro spoke again, but he didn't face me._

_ "I'm sorry, Crona." _

_ I turned to him in surprise, my hand frozen in its position from pulling my hood back. His voice was sad, almost regretful. He leaned his sword against the wall and walked to the window, leaning to the side of it and staring outside. _

_ "Whatever for?" I asked in surprise. _

_ "Are you happy here?" he muttered, as if to himself. _

_ Cautiously, I went to his side. "What are you talking about, Rokuro? Of course I am. This is a better life than I would have had if I never met you. Even now I'm happier than those around us." _

_ He closed his eyes and nodded. "Good." _

_ What was he going on about? Where was the joke? Certainly he would start to laugh any second. _

_ "Are _you _happy?" I asked in return. _

_ That got a response from him. He straightened and turned to me, his bright eyes watching me. When I was younger he used to intimidate me. Now I could match his gaze evenly. _

_ "Yes and no…" he trailed off. I nodded in encouragement. _

_ "I'm unhappy because Milites has gone to hell. That Aulstyne, or whatever his name is, has killed this place. I feel like I can't trust anyone but you. Old Man Yama will have to move, and he's like the grandfather I never had. There's less food to go around for us. But I'm also happy because I'm still alive, too…_we're _still alive, Crona. Me and you." _

_ I lowered my eyes, wondering what he meant by that. But he never finished and soon went to bed on the lumpy mattresses we had dragged in a few months ago. Since the bottom floor was vulnerable to outsiders we slept on the upper floor in the same room. Our eyes and ears were sharp, and combined together we were better than any guard dog. I sighed and collapsed on my own mattress, turning away from him. His last words rang in my mind. _

_I don't think I'll ever forget them._

* * *

**["Fear of the Abyss" – **_**Final Fantasy Type-0 **_**OST]**

_Just when it seemed we had found our place, things began to change. Guards were replaced by new, unfriendly soldiers with guns that were fully loaded. The guards had never wielded anything more dangerous than a baton, so when these new soldiers began to patrol the streets, we took to the roofs and soon began to learn how to run swiftly and silently. We could outrun anyone and could jump the gaps between buildings with ease, using telephone poles, clothing lines, and lamps to traverse easier. When we did go by the streets, we heard whispers of wars reach our ears. Less people populated the streets and remained indoors; an eerie silence began to descend upon the district like the calm before the storm. _

_ A week later we received news of the source of the heavier patrolling and restrictive rules: _

_ Cid Aulstyne, the new director of the Milites Empire. _

_The following months proved to be the hardest for Rokuro and I. _

_ War was on the horizon like a looming red cloud that hung over our heads eternally. The pace of adults going to work was faster and children weren't allowed to play outside without their parents' supervision. The streets were quiet, and so were we. We still shared our dry humor with each other, but full-blown laughter became rarer and rarer. I noticed an alarming change in Rokuro as well. My brother was extremely protective to the point where sometimes he would go alone to retrieve new clothes or groceries. When I argued he silenced me with a look, pleading with me to trust his judgment._

* * *

_ Our last visit to Old Man Yama's ended in chaos. _

_ The new director, a harsh and unforgiving man by the name of Aulstyne, ordered any weapon outlet to be closed immediately and that included our friend's store. He received a letter warning of a visit of soldiers and he didn't hesitate to close it down. He sold the last things he owned and gave us pieces of armor he had been crafting for us. I received a leather chest plate that served as a turtleneck shirt as well and he gave me a pack that went around my shoulder and hip that could carry a number of small odds and ends._

_ The weaponsmith didn't wait for Aulstyne's soldiers to arrive. He left without another word, and I haven't seen him since. We would have to make do with the stock of weapons we had, Rokuro said. Four daggers, one throwing knife, Rokuro's bow and hundreds of arrows crudely crafted from bark and the remnants from Yamamoto's store, and our hidden blades of course. _

_ The district we lived in soon descended into utter darkness a year later, controlled by Aulstyne as the last remnants of the empire we loved faded away like the change of seasons. The change was permanent. I was sad to see the freedom of our people diminish, how quickly they gave up despite the skill of weapons all buried in our hearts. When I asked Rokuro about it, he simply replied, "Some awaken sooner than others. But we, Crona…we were born like this." _

_ I contemplated his words. But what could we do? We couldn't take back the empire with just the two of us…that was ludicrous, a result of cocky imagination. I was fourteen years old, not a military general. _

_ We heard news of the surrounding countries preparing for war as well. Concordia to the north dared Milites to enter their territory. The Queen was a quiet woman of noble power, but their kingdom was guarded by fierce dragons from myths of old. In due time, I knew Aulstyne would meet that challenge head-on. To the very west of our empire new weapons and armor were being crafted, stronger than anything the world has seen. Although I held no alliance to the other three crystals, an upset in the balance could end in the world's end._

_ The Lorican Alliance, the stout fortress to the northeast, had not seemed fazed by the war declaration. Yet they were a country of the utmost protection, surrounded by endless mountains and dangerous rocks. Unless Aulstyne planned to fly there, they would be safe if they kept distance between us._

_ That left Rubrum, home of the Suzaku crystal. They were our most able enemies, the exact opposites of our power. They relied on ancient magics that I could not begin to fathom how to conjure out of thin air. Their power was impressive, no doubt, yet I had only heard of it from old stories. Their Peristylium was guarded by supposedly the most powerful students in Orience. I told Rokuro this and he scoffed. _

_ "I'd like to see them say that when they have an arrow through their eyes." _

_ "We shouldn't take them lightly, Rokuro," I warned. If things continued to become worse and the world collapsed around us, we might just have to turn to Rubrum as allies. The idea was far-fetched, but if it meant saving our skins, then we'd both have to swallow our pride. _

_ And then it happened. _

_ We were found._

* * *

_ Aulstyne. He remembered my face from many years ago, though I never understood how. The memory of standing outside an armory flashed in my mind. His cruel, hardened face had glared down at me, yet I could see the curiosity as his eyes took in my queer orbs, black but flecked with brown and red. I don't know how he remembered me, but news reached him of two young people stealing from the soldiers – and indeed we stole from them what we could – and he immediately sent soldiers after us. Prisoners were not to be taken._

_ Thankfully, those still loyal to the older Milites Empire refused to give them the whereabouts of our location. They didn't find us for another year when I turned fifteen and Rokuro was seventeen; both of us were skilled enough to take down a band of soldiers, and we did so frequently. Our cover was blown, Rokuro said. Might as well kill as many as we can now. I didn't object, either. They were evil and had no pride in their country. The dogs of Aulstyne, we called them._

_So many years of remaining in the shadows and now we were under the spotlight of Cid Aulstyne._

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I'm thinking of moving this to the Final Fantasy Agito XIII (they should really change it to Type-0 by now)/Assassin's Creed category since I include several elements from that game regarding weapons, but I don't think it would be too necessary…what do you think? It wouldn't have any characters and doesn't take place in AC's world, but obviously Crona's main weapon is the hidden blade and she does free-run like Ezio, Altair, Desmond, and now Connor, but that's about it regarding similarities. Any feedback would be welcome!

Crona's backstory will be finished in the next story…hope this cleared up a few things!

Let me know what you thought via **review!**

**-WriteFF13**


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